Distant Thunder, Part 1: Sitting Duck
by Greaselburger
Summary: A link from past to future, the sheltering wings of the protector
1. Misson 1: Sitting Duck

Ace combat 4: Distant Thunder

A link from past to future

By Ross Mulders

Disclaimer: I don't own the ace combat rights nor any of the squadron call signs, just my version of the events described here (note ark royal is owned by her Majesty's royal navy) also I haven't played Ace combat 4 since my PS2 died to expect some inaccuracy…

ISAF carrier Ark Royal, 2004

The officer of the watch, greeted the last few pilots coming into the briefing room,

"All right now you're all here, let's get on with this… He started, glaring at the new arrivals. "Last night, enemy agents eliminated our early warning radar, allowing several bear bombers to penetrate our airspace. In 15 minutes they will strike allenfort airbase, a key ISAF faculty before moving on to targets in north point. They cannot be allowed to succeed, if the bear bombers reach north point, they will be able to deal significant damage to our remaining command and control structure. It is therefore vital that you intercept these aircraft." He paused for a moment, "your aircraft are fueled and ready, you take off in 5"

Mobius one was the second to take off, waiting behind him were half a dozen phantoms, as he was lined up on the catapult the flight controller reported "Mobius one, take off immediately to clear the flight line". Giving the thumbs up to the ground crew, he prepared to be thrown into the sky. As the catapult launched him forward, he was pushed back into is seat as he took to the skies.

The flight of Phantoms leveled out at 6000 feet, by the time they reached the operation area, the bear's were 5 minutes off their targets, the 4 powerful turboprops driving the old Yoctobainain bombers forward at close to 500 mph. Each bomber was overloaded with freefall bombs, while old; the bear's had the longest range of any of the Eurasians combat bomber force. They had a small fighter escort, staying close to the bombers… mostly old Mig 21's and a pair of scavenged F-5's; ISAF's chaotic fallback had given the Eurasians much in the way of osean equipment. They must have removed most of the armor and weapons on the fighters, sacrificing combat effectiveness for range. By now they must be reaching their bingo point, forcing them to abandon the bombers and head for home…

"AWAC's here, call sign skyeye, do you read?"

Mobius one flicked his microphone twice to acknolage

"Your call sign is Mobius one, we will refer to you by this name at all times. Twelve bombers at vector 360 continue north to intercept" the voice paused before adding "today's my birthday, a victory would be nice! Mobius one, engage"

Hitting the afterburners, Mobius one felt his F-4 accelerate towards his targets, he was not worried about fuel consumption, he could land at allenfort if need be… the rest of the squadron did the same, the distance increasing between them before Omega 1, the brevet squadron leader took control

"don't spread out so much, stick with a wingman, we cant afford to lose anymore planes…Bravo 9 with me, Omega 4 and Delta 6, take the left bomber, Mobius one and viper 11, shoot forward and intercept the lead planes, the rest of you guys, deal with the fighters"

Viper 11 fell in beside, Mobius 1, chatting into the microphone "all right, lets do this, get up to 20,000 then we dive on the first bomber…"

Both pilots pulled back on their sticks, engines till at full throttle they reached their target altitude just as the rest of the squadron started biting the heels of the bomber force. Mobius 1 opened the channal to viper 11, "go for the left one, save your missiles for the fighters, just fill the bear's with 20 mic mic"

"Roger that, don't bite off more than you can chew, those Eurasians may be flying obsolete deathtraps, but they can knock you out of the sky given the chance."

Both fighters then dived towards their targets, hitting the lower ends of mach 2 as they descended. The rear gunner in the leading bomber didn't even see them until the gun flash of mobius's phantom caught his eye. The 20mm rounds impacted less than a second later, tearing a hole in the port wing of the bomber…

"We're hit! Everyone out!" cried the bomber pilot over the radio as he tried to hold the bomber stable. Mobius one a banked left after strafing the bomber, turning around for another pass…

"Mobius one, move to the next target, I see chutes from the bear you shot up…" Viper 11 reported

By this point the pair of Mig's escorting the bomber force had woken up to the threat of the fighter squadron, one splitting off to distract the phantoms biting at the formations heels, the other latching onto viper 11 as he begin to strafe the second bomber

Viper 11's shots impacted against the main fuselage of the bomber, the rounds passing clean through the elderly airframe before holing the port wing. Fuel begins to spray into a fine mist behind the bomber. In the Perspex bubble blow the cockpit the elderly navigator read the fuel dials, even in the heat of combat he needed to stay calm and perform his fuel calculations perfectly, the lives of the entire crew depended on it. He felt the shudder through the airframe as the enemy jets engaged them. Relying on his training his checked all the dials, paying close attention to hydraulic pressure and fuel remaining… one of the fuel dials was dropping at an alarming rate… he opened the internal radio link "sir! We are losing fuel!"

"Give me an estimate of flight time ASAP!" cried back the bomber co-pilot hysterically, the cockpit covered in the pulped mess that was his superior.

White 4 fell in behind the F-4, watching it strafe the bomber as he closed. His elderly Mig-21 had its active radar switched off, trying position himself for a missile lock…

Viper 11 swore, damn these bombers took a lot of killing… two runs of 20mm and the damn thing was still airborne, Mobius one had achieved a kill on his first attack run, the crew of the crippled bomber choosing to bail out rather than make for home… Viper 11 banked right, his missile lock warning was clear… looks like the rest of the fighter squadron was doing a good job engaging the escorts, reporting a fighter and two bombers down…

White 4 was sweating, he was at the edge of his range, in less than a minute he would have to bug out and RTB… the F-4 was dead in his sights, he switched on the missile guidance and heard the lock on tone, "white 4, Fox 1" he almost shouted as he hit the missile release…as soon as the missile had left its carriage, he broke right, heading home, his fuel warning light blinking…

The Shrill tone of the Missile lock on warning sounded deafening in Viper 11's ears, panicking he twisted his jet into a tight turn, deploying his chaff and flares as he turned to evade. It was a mistake, the missile, flew into the chaff cloud, the thin aluminum strips confusing its simple computer, making it lose its lock… its radar down, it locked onto the nearest heat source. The missile flew within 2 feet of the flare, locking on to the next one as it passed… it flew past two more flares before locking onto the phantom's left exhaust…

Viper 11 felt himself thrown inside his cockpit; before he recovered he heard the voice of Mobius 1, "Punch out Viper 11! Punch out!" his mind fuzzy, he automatically reached down to the ejection handle, pulling it hard…

Mobius 1 watched as Viper 11's ejection seat fired… taking him clear of his burning jet. The missile had destroyed everything behind the air intakes, its detonation clipping the phantom's wings…

"Skyeye, viper 11 is down, I see his chute" Mobius one reported distantly as he circled his fallen comrade...

"Roger that, rescue helicopter has been dispatched… continue to engage the bomber force."

"Sir, I estimate we have enough fuel to make it to the mainland, if we drop our load and turn back now…" The bear's navigator reported "we don't have enough fuel to make either the primary or secondary target"

"All right turning for home…" replied the Co-pilot. He supposed he was in charge now, his superior lay back in his chair, everything above his lower jaw decorating the bombers small interior…The lead bomber was gone too…

"This is black 2, Kaplan is dead, our fuel is out, we are heading home, forget the mission, we've lost too many bombers to complete it… everyone bug out and head for home...

"The remaining aircraft are withdrawing" Skyeye reported as the 4 remaining bombers turned south. "Well done everyone, I count 8 downed bombers and 3 dead fighters, what do you say allenfort?"

"Confirm that, we thought our runway was toast, our Rescue helicopter has been dispatched for your downed pilot"

"Roger that, all aircraft RTB"

White 4 gripped his flight stick, he had seen the phantom go down… his first kill of the war… he looked at his radar… only 4 of the bombers left… and the rest of his squadron was gone… he felt his eyes moisten at the thought of so many wasted lives in this dammed war…

Viper 11 cursed silently as he landed in the waves, he made a stupid mistake, he had stayed on the bomber too long… too obsessed with one target he had let a Mig sneak in on his tale… He inflated his life raft, no sense in staying in the water waiting for the sharks… overhead he could see the contrails of 4 bombers heading south, 2 of them we belching an unhealthy black smoke…they would be lucky to reach the mainland…

In one of the smoking bombers, the co-pilot of black 2 wiped the remains of his supirour off his controls… at least it was a quick way to go he thought as the bombedier dragged the body out of the seat, taking it towards the bomb bay. He silently thanked the older crewmember, nodding slightly as he took the commander out… his first combat mission had been a disaster, a total of 11 planes lost… including all the experienced interceptor pilots. White 4 had made it, for this he was thankful. He was just as green as him and it showed. His voice had been shaky when he had heard that the rest of his flight had been downed…

He cleared this throat before speaking to the rest of the bomber flight;

"All aircraft with bombs remaining drop your munitions before we reach landfall…"

With this instruction, the bombardier in each bomber primed each of the 2000 ibis bombs that filled mammoth bomb bay of each bomber.

"Opening bomb bay doors" Reported to bombardier as he turned the handle that manually exposed the bomb bay to the skies. As he pushed against the leaver, it came down with no resistance… some of Viper 11's gunfire had shredded the door controls...

"Markov here, Bomb doors are inop, we're going to have to land belly full" the bombardier reported as he climbed back towards the cockpit

Below them, the sea gave way to the coastline, the other smoking bomber's crew begin bailing out, their fuel exhausted, the bomber begin a slow tumble towards the ground. Within 20 minutes of them making landfall they were in sight of Wrigley.

"Wrigley AB here, white 4, black 3, 5 and 12 you are cleared to land, black 2, wait until the rest of the flight have made it down before you make your approach"

For 10 nerve wracking minutes, he watched the rest of the flight land; the Mig first, followed by the bombers… now it was their turn… He opened the radio link to the rest of the crew "Everyone get up to the cockpit, I don't know how badly damaged we are… and we still have a full belly, last thing we want is to die on the tarmac… get out as soon as we stop"

Two minutes later the 3 remaining crewmembers were crammed into the tiny cockpit, the navigator, bombardier and the rear gunner all looked towards the young co-pilot, it all depended on him now…

"Wrigley, this is black 2, starting our final approach, have fire and recovery ready for when we touchdown"

"Roger that black 2, runway is clear, good luck"

Turning off the radio the co-pilot gritted his teeth as he lowered the bomber to the runway; he started off his checklist… flaps check, landing gear check, brakes check…

He pushed the controls down, lowering his altitude to 200 ft before pulling the nose up and slowing his airspeed to 200 knots….

"Good, your on target" the controller commented as the crippled bomber approached the runway…

As the wheels of the elderly bomber touched the ground, the aircraft jerked as the left as the undercarriage collapsed under the bomber, the other 2 sets of wheels, unable to support the weight of the huge bomber collapsed as well, crushing the empty navigator's position. The bomber scraped along the ground, falling off the runway towards the control tower, its huge wingspan crushing a pair of parked Mig's before crashing into an empty hanger. The remaining fuel in the wings ignited, fireballing behind the main fuselage as it detached from the bomber… in the cockpit of the bomber the co-pilot was screaming as they approached the tower, panicked ground crew scattering as the wingless cylinder skated forwards, crushing a pair of starter tractors before coming to a halt scant feet from the control tower…

The co-pilot grinned as the plane came to a halt…before the bombardier threw him out the escape hatch…

Mobius One hit the carrier deck with a thud, the arrestor cable catching the heavy jet as it slowed in a manner more close to a controlled crash than a landing…

"Nicely done mobius one, those phantoms wallow like a brick on landing"

Climbing out of his cockpit, mobius one took off his helmet, smelling the distinctive smell of jet fuel and sea air… A kill to his name… he headed towards the ready room for a debrief and a coffee while the ground crew began too stow his Phantom below deck.

"Congratulations, the enemy bomber strike was repulsed" grinned the watch officer as the pilots sat sipping coffee. "I can also report that viper 11 was picked up by a search and rescue from allenfort." The officer shuffled his paperwork, finding the after action report." I will now announce the confirmed kills in order of rank: Omega 1 got a Bear and a F-5, Delta 3 got another bear and an assist on a second, Viper 9 got 2 bears, Omega 12 got 2 bears and a mig, Mobius one bagged a bear, Bravo 12 got a bear and an F-5. That's a total squadron kill list of 8 bear's, a pair of F-5's and a Mig 21. We lost a phantom to the other Mig… but otherwise a good performance, keep it up!"

"Sir? How many bombers escaped the battle area?" Asked Delta 3 from the back, the pilot was just 19 and his voice sounded unhealthy squeaky…

Before the watch officer could reply Omega 1 cut him off

"4 bears made it out, along with the mig who took down Viper 11, two of the bear's looked pretty beat up… they may not make it back to base" The veteran pilot cut in.

Scowling at Omega 1, the watch officer beginning to drone on technical details, an hour later he noticed that most of the pilots were asleep…

"Everyone you are dismissed, go get some rest, you are on air watch at 0800 tomorrow, dismissed"

At those words the dozen pilots staggered out of the room towards their bunks a few floors below for some well needed rest…

In the Viper 11 stepped off the Sea hawk onto the deck of the carrier, still soaking wet from his brief swim in the ocean. We waved off the navy helicopter crew, thankful for their quick response. He was still pissed at making such a stupid mistake, he had come in on the bomber flat and level, not even bothering to check his 6… he deserved to be dead… he had thought over the engagement on his way back to the carrier. He would not make the same mistake twice…

I wrote this up during my spare time and it's my first real attempt at a fan fiction, any input (good or bad) would be greatly appreciated. If you guys like my attempt, I may try going through the missions after.

Please note that i've changed a lot of the storyline/physics to make ace combat seem more "realistic", I hope I haven't done anything to destroy it…

My main aim is really to represent both sides in the war.

inspirations for this are Red storm rising by tom Clancy and Sky masters by Dale Brown.

Any input will be seriously considered since this is my first attempt of something of this scale


	2. Intermisson: Calm before the storm

"Whatcha mean no bacon?" Cried Viper 11 as his turn came for breakfast.

"Go have some sausages walker, at least we have real eggs today…" Replied Mobius 1 as he was served by the surly cook.

It had been a week since their last combat sortie, since then they had only been scrambled once to chase a U2 away from North point. The spy plane had been taken down by a lucky shot from a patriot silo before the squadron had intercepted it, it seemed like almost peacetime.

They were bored…

Walker, call sign Viper 11 was 22, young in pilot terms, he had a streak of bad luck since getting splashed by the Mig last week, not only did he have to abort the U2 chase because of technical failures, but Eva, Call sign Delta 4, had turned down his approaches with a kick to the groin. Setting his Tray down on the table, he waited for the rest the squadron to collect their food.

Mobius 1 was 18, just out of flight school. His real name, Lazlow, was seldom used. Ever since walker had seen the artwork he had posted all over his cabin, he had been called Lupuis by everyone in the squadron. He thought this was kynda a plus since he liked the idea of being a "wolf" was sorta cool. Sitting down opposite Walker, he noticed Omega 1 arguing with the cooks over the lack of bacon.

"heh, looks like your not the only one who cares about the menu" Lupuis grinned as he dug into his scrambled eggs, shoveling the yellowish substance into his mouth as Eva sat next to him.

"You really should learn how to eat in front of a lady…" she tutted disapprovingly as Lupuis wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Eva was probably the hottest girl on the carrier; she was 19, blonde and had a body to die for… Several of the crew had made moves on her, and most of them now twitched when they saw her… a side effect of her "unique" method of saying "no".

"Anyone catch the news on Stonehenge?" she asked meekly, She always seemed shy whenever he saw her, appently her vocabulary around everyone else consisted of swearing and scowling.

"Yeah, bombing raid failed…again…" Replied Omega 1 as he grabbed a seat across from Eva, earning him a scowl from her, He was the oldest of the squadron, 36, old for a pilot he had flown as an instructor the past few years before being called up to the reserve squadron. He was renown among the squadron as the only person who had joked about Eva and not regretted it… and only on the account he outranked her.

"Losses?" asked walker as he prodded his sausage, wishing it was bacon.

"Heavy apparently, there was some footage of downed B-52's, along with some shots of yellow squadron…" replied Eva trying to ignore the spray of scrambled egg as Lupuis choked on a stray bread crust

"Which news report were you watching? EBS?" Asked walker as he nibbled on his sausage

"Yeah, I don't think any of the north point based news channels covered it…" Eva replied, pausing to hit Lupuis's back as he choked, dislodging the offending bread crust.

They all groaned as the tannoy announced "all pilots report to the ready room, repeat…"

"Here we go again…" muttered Walker as everyone abandoned their seats…

Wrigley AFB 10:12

The Surviving crew of black 2 watched sullenly as the wreak of their bomber was gently towed away. The EOD team had spent the night disarming the bomb load before letting the tractors tow the broken bear off the taxiway.

"Damn… first mission too…" Muttered the co-pilot

"You did fine Ekizal, you got us home safely…that's good enough for me" The elderly bombardier commented, he had taken to the young co-pilot, he reminded him of himself in the last war, green, nervous but still a good enough aviator.

"I hear you got a ticket home?" Ekizal asked as they moved away from the window, walking back towards the pilots lounge

"Yeah, got a transfer to a C-130 unit, means I'm out of combat from now on… shipping to Comperth tomorrow… Good to hear about your promotion"

"Well without a bird it's meaningless; they got me helping the ground crew clear the mess I made"

"You hear about Gabriel?"

"The Mig pilot? The one from white squadron? Ekizal queried

"Yeah, poor bastard, they haven't reassigned him have they?"

"Nope, seems like none of the other squadrons want him…"

"He's still green; I don't think they will reinforce the squadron, suppose they are going to have him fly solo…"

"Suicide if you ask me… well I hope that he makes it through his tour… he deserves to..."

Notes:

ISAF

118th tactical fighter squadron (reserve squadron)

Mobius 1 2nd Lt Lazlow, aka Lupuis

18, short brown hair, green eyes, average builds

Viper 11 2nd Lt Walker

22, Crew cut Black hair, Brown eyes, heavy build

Delta 4 2nd Lt Eva

19, long blonde hair, Blue eyes, slim hourglass build

Omega 1 ---- Captain

38, brown hair, blue eyes, starting to go bald, heavy build

Omega 4 ----

Bravo 9 ----

Delta 6 ----

Eurasians

41st bomber wing

Black 2 –

Ekizal, 2nd Lt

17, Black hair, Dark brown eyes, acne, tall and skinny build

----, Bombardier

----, navigator

476th Interceptor squadron

White 4 Gabriel, 2nd Lt

18, Blonde hair, blue eyes, Medium builds


	3. Misson 2: Imminent Threat

Disclaimer: I don't own ace combat; all call signs other than viper 11 and Mobius one belong to me

Characters:

Notes:

ISAF

118th tactical fighter squadron (reserve squadron)

Mobius 1 2nd Lt Lazlow, aka Lupuis

18, short brown hair, green eyes, average build

Viper 11 2nd Lt Walker

22, Crew cut Black hair, Brown eyes, heavy build

Delta 4 2nd Lt Eva

19, long blonde hair, Blue eyes, slim hourglass build

Omega 1 Captain

38, brown hair, blue eyes, starting to go bald, heavy build

Omega 4 ----

Bravo 9 ----

Delta 6 ----

Eurasians

41st bomber wing

Black 2 Ekizal, 2nd Lt

17, Black hair, Dark brown eyes, acne, tall and skinny build

476th Interceptor squadron

White 4 Gabriel, 2nd Lt

19, Blonde hair, blue eyes, Medium build

133rd Reserve training squadron

Brown 3 Eliza Grimm Airwoman second class

20, Brown hair, Brown eyes, small build

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"All fighters report status" The voice of AWAC's controller skyeye woke Lupuis from his stupor.

"That means its time to wake up Lupuis!" Delta 4 cut over the com

"Hey I'm awake!" he mumbled blinking he awoke from his daydreaming

"Cut the chatter, all aircraft report in"

"Omega 1, ready op"

"Omega 4 ready op"

"Bravo 9 ready op"

"Omega 12 ready op"

"Viper 11, ready…"

"We all know your never ready" Delta 4 cut in "delta 4 ready op"

"Cant you two shut up for once? Delta 6 ready op"

"Mobius 1, ready op"

"Wrigley AFB, vector three six, zero, the bombers should be parked together on the ground, take them all out"

The Dozen fighters closed formation as they closed the remaining distance to the target, the elderly Phantom's were now supported by a pair of F-5 Freedom fighters. These two planes had drafted from a training squadron to boost the losses suffered since ISAF's Fallback from the mainland. Eva and walker had drawn straws to see who would get to fly the agile fighter, Walker had won… this had the effect of Eva being more vocal than normal. The second freedom fighter had gone to omega 12, a reward for downing a Mig on the last mission.

"Form off into your assigned groups, Delta 4 and Omega 12 escort the phantoms and engage enemy air assets." Omega 1 ordered as the F-5's hit their afterburners and scooted ahead of the formation.

"Hey Omega 1, do those pylons supply power to base?" Delta 4 cut over the com

"Looks like it, destroying the substation would retard their SAM's, all your Mobius 1"

Dropping out of formation, Lupuis selected one of the 2000ibs bombs that were slung beneath his fuselage.

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Wrigley AFB

The radar operator had spent the last 6 hours looking at his screen, white paper coffee cups testament to this fact. Currently he was busy playing a game of solitaire. Alt tabbing back to his radar screen as his supervisor came by; he stared at the radar blips on the screen. It took him a few seconds to register what they meant. He hit the intercom: "contact! vector one eight zero south, looks like a squadron of fighters!"

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The 2000ib bomb while not an exceptionally large munition, did have the advantage of being cheap to produce and comparatively simple to use. It had no guidance system; its most advanced feature was the altitude restrictor preventing its detonation unless it was dropped from over 500ft. As the bomb left its carriage the internal mechanism unwound as it fell, arming the bomb for detonation. 6 seconds after being dropped, the 2000ib of high explosive detonated on impact with the substation. The explosive force of the blast demolished a pair of transformer sheds, causing a power spike among the remaining transformers. Overloaded, they burnt out and the power to Wrigley's Radar and integrated SAM batteries died.

-----------------

Eliza woke to the sound of sirens blaring throughout the base; he closed his eyes again, wishing it would stop. The shuddering impact of a bomb impacting against the runway jolted him from his bunk.

---------------

Walker Banked left at an F-5 which was trying to claw its way into the air, its airspeed and altitude was low, an easy victim. He switched to his Sidewinder short range Air to Air missile, hearing the sound of a clear radar lock. He fired, feeling his lightweight fighter shudder as the missile left the wing. He watched the missile arc towards its target before banking off into the sky below the small jet.

"Motherfucker!" Screamed Walker as he switched to his guns, the F-5 had an ECM pod, the Chaff making a more obvious target than the jets radar signature.

-------------

Blue 2, whooped as he heard the missile warning cease, leveling out he scanned for a target.

--------

Jinxing behind the fighter as its pilot searched for a target, walker triggered his 20mm cannon, the two guns spitting out high explosive shells into the rear engines of the Eurasian fighter, its ECM no defense from solid lead. The shells impact destroyed the planes power plant and shredded its tail pane. The controls not responding, the pilot ejected. The Perspex canopy shattered as the detonator cord embedded within it detonated, the ejector seat propelling the aviator from his crippled bird.

Walker Laughed, his first kill! His laughter was cut short by the debris from the downed fighter's tail being sucked into his engine

"CRRRAAAAPPPPPPP!!!!!!"

-----------------------

Gabriel taxied his Mig-21 down towards the runway, his heart thumping as the ISAF aircraft thundered overhead, attacking the combat air patrol. A 2000ibs bomb landed less than 50 meters to the left of him, scraps of debris showered the cockpit, a partially large rock denting his nosecone, disabling his active radar. He hit his afterburners, sending the elderly fighter into the sky. With his radar damaged, all he could do was distract the fighters.

Lupuis pulled up from his attack on the substation, the F-5s had already engaged the Eurasian fighters while the F-4's were concerned with suppressing the Air defenses. The base's lone SAM launcher was inactive, its crew trying to start its backup generator. He scanned the horizon for targets; his eyes caught sunlight flashing off a cockpit. He hit his afterburners to intercept the lone bandit.

Lupuis's F-4 jetted forward, his radar scanning for his target… the jet had gone low between the hills, blinding his radar to its presence. He dropped his altitude to 2000 ft, circling where his radar last sighted the aircraft. He leveled out just as 30mm depleted uranium shells tore half of his port wing off. He turned his head just as the A-10 thunderbolt fired again, its GAU-12 cannon venting gun smoke as it strafed him.

In the cockpit, Elisa Grimm swore as she missed her target. Her first burst had only clipped him, but the damage caused by the massive cannon was extensive. She was not a frontline pilot, just a trainee who was tasked with delivering aircraft to outlying bases. She had trained to fly cargo planes, but had been tasked with delivering new fighters. Her inexperience with the slow attack plane was clear. Her 30mm gun, designed to kill battle tanks, was ranged for combat at 2000m, she had aimed it at less than a 1000. Had she known that her gun was set for that range, her second burst would have shredded the phantom.

Lupuis struggled with his jet, the hydraulics on his port side was shot, and so was the electronics. He was lucky to still be alive, part of his wing was hanging off and one of the engines was on fire. He turned to see the Grey A-10 on his 6.

"I've got an A-10 all over my six! Somebody get here quick, my jet is crippled!" He screamed as he shutdown his damaged engine.

Elisa braked, pulling her thunderbolt back far enough to get the gun range right, the phantom was flying level and its pilot trying to retain control of the crippled jet. She smiled as she pressed the firing stud. Nothing happened; she pressed it again, still nothing. She looked over her controls, the gun magazine read empty. The weapon had only been loaded with enough rounds for emergency use. As she banked right the left wing of her plane exploded as an air to air missile impacted.

"Scratch one A-10! Lupuis, you owe me big time!" shouted Eva as she overshot the A-10, pulling next to the crippled phantom

Lupuis grinned, watching Eva wave to him as he headed south. It was only then that he felt the warm liquid dripping down his arm.

--------------------------

Elisa pulled her aircraft into a shallow turn, trying not to overbalance the heavy jet. Her port wing was almost completely gone and the engine had been shredded too. "Brown 3, I need cover to land"

Her answer was static

"Anyone hear me???"

"Tower is down, I'll cover you." The voice of White 4 cut through

"Roger, starting my approach."

Above the battlefield Viper 11 saw the crippled A-10 start its approach, behind it was a Mig. The rest of the squadron had been busy destroying the bombers on the ground, their bombs and cannons had pretty much wiped out the bomber force. Delta 4 and Lupuis were heading home, while he flew rearguard.

"Looks like the remaining mig is covering the crippled A-10, no threats otherwise."

"Roger that, all aircraft RTB" The voice of the AWAC's controller Skyeye sounded, ending the squadrons second mission.

The crippled A-10, its wing clipped and missing an engine, slammed down on the runway, its undercarriage collapsing under the stress, its belly scraping along the runway, leaving a trail of burning jet fuel. Screeching to a halt, the pilot was slumped over the controls.

Ekizal broke from the cover of the concrete air-raid shelter, running towards the crashed jet. The fires were creeping up the fuselage, threatening to consume the pilot. Reaching the side of the thunderbolt, Ekizal slammed his fists on the canopy to no avail. Drawing his pilot's sidearm, he shot the explosive bolts. The canopy shattered, bits of plastic digging their way into his face as he pulled the unconscious pilot from the wreckage. Throwing the limp form over his shoulders he ran from the burning wreak.

White 4 watched with horror as the A-10 span out on the runway and started to burn, banking around he saw the lone figure run out to pull the pilot free from the wreckage. Within seconds of pulling the pilot loose, the plane went up in a fireball as the fire breached the fuel tanks, flattening the pilot and her rescuer.

The fighter squadron had landed without much incident, Lupuis being held off till last to drain off as much fuel as possible. The rest of the squadron had been called to the debrief while he was sent to the med bay to check on his arm. An exploding circuit board had sliced it open, meriting some bandages.

Walking out onto the flight bay Lupuis looked at his ruined fighter, most of the wing was gone, along with one of the engines. It would never fly again…one of the ground crew had dug out a 30mm round that had impacted into the metal plate behind the cockpit, miraculsly it had failed to detonate. He looked at the shell, slightly flattened by its impact, a dead weight in his hand.

He felt something blow wetly into his ear

"You owe me big-time hotshot" Eva whispered as she prodded him in the back.

"Tell me about it…" he watching the mechanics strip the useable parts from his phantom.

"Walker wants to talk to you…he is pissed off at his luck again, catch you later"

As she walked off Lupuis was sure she winked at him…


	4. Intermisson: The armoured fist

Sorry about not updating, I got carried away writing and hence this chapter appeared :S next update in a week or so…

Characters in this chapter:

2nd Lt Kroker – Challenger 2 commander

-----------------

30 miles south of Saint Arc, 14:00

Lieutenant Kroker rested his hands on the .50 cal mount, the Challenger 2 was sitting idle on the roadside, the road was packed with transports. Remnants of the 21st assault division were limping towards saint arc. Battered Armored personnel carriers and trucks drove by, the occasional M1A2 or linebacker followed suit. Their challenger were attached to the 2nd marine expeditionary force, ordered to delay the Eurasian forces long enough for the broken allied forces to fall back. The Marines had top cover for now, F/A-18's and Harriers flew patrols overhead, although lately they had been fewer and fewer of them…

His gunner passed him up a steaming mug of tea, his grubby face gaunt with exhaustion. They were all like this, for the past month they had been making desperate rearguard actions towards saint arc, they had no idea what had happened to their original unit, they had been separated after the fall of the Los Canas six weeks ago.

"Bravo-twelve, come in? Kroker you there?"

"Roger, we're here, whats up?"

"The 122nd airborne is late, go see whats holding them up"

"Confirmed, any news on finding us some ammo?"

"Nope, haven't come across anything you can use, lots of smoothbore but nothing that works with your barrel"

"Right, we see anything, we come right back ok?"

"Roger,"

Switching off the radio he shouted down to everyone, waking his loader and driver

"All right, we're moving out, the 122nd is late, the Captain wants us to see why"

15 minutes later they were heading down the road, the traffic had faded away to nothing, and the forest road was deserted.

"Nothing so far captain, but something's off, shouldn't there be units still using this road?"

"Roger, the 122nd airborne is supposed to be here by now"

"Wait a second, something's coming up…"

Ahead, he saw the burning wreaks of a pair of striker APC's bearing the crossed sword emblem of the airborne infantry

"Damnit!" he clicked on the radio, "sir, we found a pair of destroyed strikers, looks like the 122nd is not coming; we are pulling back before we…"

As he spoke Kroker's eye's caught the distinctive muzzle flash of a 125mm gun.

"Full reverse!" he screamed down to the driver, feeling the tank shudder as the engine roared. The SABOT round fired by the T-72 tank missed the Challenger 2 turret by scant feet, the T-72's autoloader reloading another anti-tank round into the 125mm gun.

"T-72, 9 clock on the ridgeline, range one seven zero zero meters, HEAT round"

"Loaded!"

"Firing!"

The 120mm gun of the challenger discharged, the hot gasses creating a halo around the barrels muzzle. The spinning depleted uranium shell covered the distance in just under a second, striking the Yuctobainen produced tank's frontal amour. Its impact boring into the hardened steel, its energy bled off by the thick frontal armor causing the shell to break up. The smaller particles still had enough energy to penetrate the tanks hard skin; this smaller debris proceeded to bounce around the crew compartment of the tank. The gunner was pulped instantly while the commander's legs were severed at the knee. One of the hot fragments penetrated the casing of the tanks main magazine, setting off the shells stored there. The chain reaction vaporized the crew, blowing the turret clean off.

"Kill confirmed! Scratch one T-72!" Shouted Perry from his gunner's postion, whooping at his fith tank to tank kill of the war.

Kroker looked through his binoculars towards the destroyed tank, only to see in the distance, the distinctive plumes of dust that announced approaching amour.

"Get us out of here!" He shouted down to his driver before picking up the radio "Commander! We have incoming amour! The 122nd has been overrun!"

"Numbers and disposition?"

"Confirmed contact with a T-72, others are unknown but they are in battalion strength"

"Pull back to the port, the last units are loading now, if you're not on the boat in the next hour, your swimming"

"Roger that, falling back now"

Saint art harbor 14:45

"…repeat, enemy aircraft are bombing the port, requesting additional air support!" the captain of the Frigate thunderchild reported into the ships satleite radio.

"Negative thunderchild, we have no air support avaible, cover the evacualtion fleet through the bering straghts

The last transport barge were being loaded, ISAF's huge losses were shown by the fact that even as the last vehicles loaded, most of the transports were only half full.

The escorts for the evacuation feet consisted of the thunderchild, a pair of destroyers and the damaged Essex Carrier Timberwolf. The Carrier's AV-8B's had been running missons around the clock for the last 4 days. Out of the orginal 15, only 2 remained serviceable, the rest of the flightdeck was occupied by an assortment of helicopters.

Looking to shore, The frigate's captain saw the last tanks being loaded onto the transport barge. As the boarding ramp rose he saw a lone challenger driving at full tilt towards the docks, its driver jinxing as anti-tank rounds impacted around it.

In the challenger 2, Kroker swore

"The bastards are bugging out!" he shouted in frustration, seeing the last transport barge moving out of the harbour, "turn us around, we're going to take at least one of those bastards down"

The challenger swung about, presenting its thick front armor to the ruined buildings as a pair of T-90's emerged from the smoke;

"T-90! 12 oclock, range two zero zero yards, SABOT round, Fire!" Kroker Shouted as his gunner dipressed the firing stud.

The Challenger rocked as its gun discharged, the shot leaving the barrel at just over mach 2, its ceramic casing peeling off the fin stablised dart. The range was point blank in armored warfare, the challenger's gun, designed to engage targets at over kilometer, was overkill at this distance. The T-90's reactive armour detonated as the discarding SABOT impacted against the tanks turret. The explosive power produced from the shaped charges wrapped around the T-90 did little to lessen the impact of the shot. the dart punching right through the turret, creating a 3 inch hole right through the turret and the autoloader. Miraclusly for the crew, the shot failed to detonate any of the stored ammunition, the shockwave simply stunning the crew and deafening the gunner. While the crew survived, the damage to the autoloader was extensive, the cannon's breach refusing to seal, the tank was out of action.

"Direct hit! Switch to the second…" Shouted Kroker just as the second T-90's gun flashed.

The 125mm tugsten cored round slammed into the composite armour of the Challenger, peeling away the layers of ceramics and metals, passing to the left of the driver before boring into the challenger's engine. The twelve cylinder engine screamed its last as the Tugsten spent its kenetic energy into its solid steel. The radiator burst, covering his loader with scalding water, his screams sounding through the interior. The engine stalled.

Feeling engine die, Kroker yelled "bail out!!!"

Helping his gunner pull the helpless loader out of the hatch, preying that the T-90 would not fire a second time to confirm the kill.

The driver had already bailed out, pulling his L85A2 from the runined tank, his weapon useless against the tanks thick amour. The Crew dragged their screaming comrade behind the only cover on the barren dock, their own tank. They heard the distinctive rattle of the T-90's co-axel machine gun. This was it, so close yet so far…

The T-90 exploded, a half dozen 50mm shells exploding over its hull, one finding a flaw in its armour. The Frigate Thunderchild had moved closer to shore, covering the last transport barge before opening up on the advancing Eurisans. A pair of BMP's exploded, spilling burning infantry onto the concrete of the docks, the light armour no match for the automatic navel cannon.

The deafening roar of aircraft screamed overhead, a pair of Eurisan F-16s tore over on an attack run. The Frigate's Phalanx gun spat out 20mm depleated urainium shells, shredding the light underbelly of the first fighter before it could drop its payload. The jet splashed down less than 20 meters from the frigate's flank. The pilot of the second jet held his nerve, dropping his payload as he passed over, the two 3000ib bombs impacted into the Frigate's helicopter bay, penetrating through the deck before embedding themselves in steel armoured room that was the ships missle magazine. The F-16 pilot had no time to celebrate, a sea dart missle fired just after he had passed over the frigate, impacted against the fighter, desintergrating the tailplane and the engine outtake. The sudden loss of drag from the tail, pulled the jet's nose upwards, the pilot pulled the ejection lever as his plane begain to fall.

The time delay fuses on the 3000ib bombs detonated. The explosion exploded upwards through the decks, destroying the frigate's engine room, AA battery and helicopter hanger.

On the bridge of his mortally wounded vessel, the captain of the Thunderchild made his final orders.

"Run the ship aground, all personell not involed in manning the autocannon abandon ship"

As the bridge crew evacucated he stood at the window, watching his crew prepare to abandon the striken vessel…

On shore, Kroker and his crew watched with disbelief as the Thunderchild ran herself aground next to the docks, her gun firing non-stop even as artillery shells begain to splash around her. Her crew scrambling to the side, awaiting the hovercraft of the landing ships.

With the thunderchild's gun covering the dockyard, most of the crew could be rescued.

Two hours later, concentrated artillery fire from an Eursian MLRS battery finally set of the remaining ammunition stores, vaporizing most of the vessel and flattening everything within a mile of the docks.

For the evacuation taskforce, the thunderchild's passing was marked by a bright flash to the east. Her sacrifice had allowed the taskforce to leave the harbor behind, now they had to run the gauntlet of enemy air patrols before making it to open ocean.

From the flight deck of the Essex carrier Timberwolf Kroker watched the great flash of the Thunderchild's death as the battered covoy limped out to sea. Unkown to him, the convoy's postions were being tracked by the high power radomes more than 200 miles away.


	5. Misson 3: The Northern Eye

That took me a long time to get down… I got distracted by the armoured  
guys last chapter so this was written on and off for about a month  
before I got it done (at 1am)  
Ok, taken what you said onboard yellow13, I'm going to be on missions  
at least until the oil rig stage so not too many interruptions! I'm  
currently deciding to have a submarine chapter before the invincible  
fleet (ive been watching "hunt for the red October again")  
No Eurasians this chapter but there will be some from Wrigley in the next one!  
Any tips or requests will appreciated!!!  
And if you want me to include a name, I will… just don't "blaze" up  
please! Anyone named "chopper" will die because I hated his battle  
spam: P  
-----------

Lupuis fidgeted in the tight confines of the Phantom's navigator's,  
unused to the raised position over the pilot. In most missions the  
squadron ran with the co-pilot's seat empty, relying on the AWAC's air  
controller to relay data to the aircraft. Thanks to his Phantom being  
crippled he had been assigned to act as the local air controller for  
the squadron. It was his task to oversee the battle on the tactical  
scale and priorities targets. All he knew was that he was stuck here  
until the squadron's replacement aircraft were delivered.  
Looking over his active radar screen, he marked off another checkpoint  
on map. 50 miles until the engagement area. The squadron was spread  
out in a loose formation, close enough to provide cover but far enough  
away so that a fighter could not lock onto more than two of them at  
once.  
"Delta 4 to squadron, Nav point delta reached, Proceed to Omega" he  
announced to the rest of the squadron, making a note with a grease  
pencil before running a systems check. He was using Eva's call sign  
until he got his own bird.  
"You know, it's a nice change to be flying somewhere like this…" Eva  
spoke off the com. "Seems…peaceful"  
Looking out the canopy Lupuis gazed with disinterest at the snowy  
landscape "the Craters spoil it…"  
Below them was their nav point, Crater XF94 beta, 10 years before, a  
meteorite shattered by the orbital cannon Stonehenge had impacted on  
the world…  
"You know… some would call it romantic being up here" Eva muttered out  
loud, ignoring Lupuis's remark.  
"Nope, I wouldn't… reminds me of the stories omega 1 told us about Belka…"  
"You just won't get the hint will you?"  
"What?"  
"Never mind…"

"Hey lovebirds, you want to enlighten the rest of us about what's going  
on?" The voice of Viper 11 crackled over the radio; by the way Eva  
snarled back, walker had just earned himself a slap back on the  
carrier.  
"Shut it walker, we've got 40 miles left till we engage"  
"So why exactly are we flying into a long range radar net, over  
terrain that if we bail out over, we freeze to death and flying  
aircraft that look more like flying gas tanks than fighters?"  
"Do you ever pay attention to the briefing?" Eva butted in  
"No, so why are we here then?"  
"For the last time, we are here to destroy the radar atop of mount  
sheznia. The reason for this is that the allied armies are evacuating  
from saint arc and that at the moment, their transport barges are  
being bombed senseless by aircraft directed through this radar array"  
Answered Omega 1, cutting over the com line  
"So why couldn't the marines or the army air corps do it?"  
"lets see… the Marines aircraft are currently being loaded onto their  
Essex carriers and the army air corps now have pride of place at an  
Erusian airbase" snapped Eva  
"So basically, we are the only guys left who can do it?"  
"Yes, we are, now shut up before you hit a mountain"

"Skyeye, entering combat airspace, requesting combat control pass over  
to you" Lupuis spoke into the microphone  
"Confirmed, control switching Skyeye"  
Lupuis flicked on the data link on his control panel. The data  
provided by the high power Doppler radar and the squadron's passive  
radars was transmitted to a satellite in orbit, the data then was  
linked down to a ground station to be decrypted and finally passed  
onto the AWAC's controller.  
"Uplink online, activating HUD IFF" The controller voice crackled into  
the headphones of the squadron.  
"Squadron confirms IFF online, Preparing to engage" Lupuis read out as  
he switched to SAAM control. The two of the 4 missiles the Phantom  
Carried were the long range sparrow Semi-active air to air missiles.  
Designed to be used at long ranges by aircraft with electronic warfare  
equipment, they were directly slaved to the Phantom's radar, the  
missiles would only seek targets within an electronic "box" illumined  
by the ECM officer, this system, fine for longer range engaments was  
ill suited to shorter ranged combat. They had all been told that the  
target lock systems were dodgy on this model and that a couple ISAF  
pilots had been killed thanks to their missiles going dumb.  
"entering combat area, stay tight and watch each other's 6s, there is  
a flight of F-16s over the target area, Intel suggests that they are  
armed with primarily air to ground munitions, but don't undestimate  
them"  
"Contact! Vector 360' looks like a pair of F-5's, range 10 miles"  
Lupuis reported, the phantom's high power radar burning through the  
passive ECM from the fighters electronic warfare pods.  
"Delta 4, engage them with SAAM"  
Lupuis ran his hands over the controls automatically, aiming the  
missiles targeting box slightly in front of the F-5's. The advantage  
of this system was that the fighter's missile warnings would not  
detect a separate radar system from the missiles; the downside is that  
if fighter's fired chaff, the phantom's radar would not distinguish  
between the target and the clouds of radar reflective material. He  
pressed the firing stud.  
The two missiles sunk into the fuselage of the Old Osean fighter  
dropped one after the other, they fell several feet clear before the  
jet engines ignited, accelerating them to a speed close to mach 3.  
"Missiles away, tracking is good, No ECM yet"  
The pair of missiles, streaked forward ahead of the squadron, covering  
the distance towards the targets in seconds.  
"Target is banking to port, resetting target box..."  
Lupuis moved the missile's targeting area to follow the banking jet,  
its radar signature stronger as it exposed its underbelly to the  
phantom.  
"3 seconds to intercept! 2, 1, Intercept complete!"

The F-5's engines exploded as it banked, the missile impacting on the  
light fighter's underside, the craft's four 2000ib bombs detonated,  
the fighter exploded in a massive fireball, engulfing the entire jet  
before subsiding. The pilot did not even have time to reach for his  
ejector handle. The second missile streaked past the blazing fireball  
that was once a fighter jet and towards his wingman. In the seconds  
after the explosion, he had broken off, pulling a high G turn to avoid  
the debris of his squadron commander. This saved his life as the  
missile's proximity fuse went off. The explosion tore the tail of the  
fighter apart; the vertical tale plane was completely destroyed.  
Feeling the controls go dead, the Erusian pilot ejected.  
Eva whooped as both missiles impacted, Lupuis may have been the one  
guiding the missiles, but Eva got the kills.  
"Delta 4, 2 kills confirmed, I see one chute"  
"Confirmed, nice job delta 4!" Skyeye reported as the squadron lit up  
its afterburners, accelerating just past the sound barrier.  
Walker felt his jet push forward as he hit the burners; his luck had  
finally balanced out since he had had Lupuis make him some artwork for  
his tail plane. The ground crew had just finished painting it where they  
scrambled. A black snake strangling an F-5 in the colours of his first  
kill.  
"The first Radar site is 2 miles ahead of you, no aircraft yet but  
expect incoming when they figure out that you're going for the dish."  
"confirm that, switching to precision munitions, Delta 4 and Viper 11,  
cover us as we start our attack run" Omega 1 instructed, leading the  
rest of the squadron on their attack "don't drop all your bombs, we  
still need to waste another site"  
Eva turned the Phantom into a backing turn, circling the target area  
as the squadron's 3 other F-4's concentrated on destroying the radomes  
and their control centres.  
"Rader picture is clear, ive got some light contacts far out near the  
next target" Reported Lupuis  
"Rodger that delta 4, take Viper 11 with you and clear the target area"  
Falling into a close formation to overlap both aircraft's passive ECM  
as they sped towards the radar contacts. Lupuis watched as the faint  
radar dot split into four as they closed the distance, his radar  
automatically trying to determine the aircraft type.  
"Confirm, 4 bandits, F-16 type aircraft, variant and payload unknown,  
Skyeye can you confirm the Erusian air units in this area?"  
"Roger that, those are F-16C's of the 425th Fighter bomber squadron,  
based 200 miles southwest, they are probably heavily laden with fuel  
and bombs for their attack on the evacuation fleet"  
"Roger that, Delta 4 permission to engage?"  
"Granted, watch for short range missile shots, just because they are  
bombing doesn't mean that they wont have a sidewinder or two"  
"Viper 11, walker go in close and keep them busy, we're going to  
launch our SAAM's from standoff, our phantom cant complete in a  
turning battle with F-16s"  
"Allright! Watch and learn how close range dog fighting should be done"  
Walker replied as he his afterburners  
"whatever, it's a wonder how you fit your head in that tiny cockpit…"  
Eva snapped as Lupuis calculated a firing solution  
"it's not my head that takes up the room in this cock-pit" he Ginned in response  
"You little…."  
"Missile lock! Fire!" shouted Lupuis interuppiting Eva before she could  
reel off a string of insults. The Final two SAAM's of the Phantom  
dropped from their carriages before speeding away to their targets. The  
F-16's modern ECM system was balanced out by the large airframe and  
their close formation. Their radar signature was blurred, but  
pin-point accuracy was not needed when engaging formations.  
The missiles impacted one after the other, the first entering the  
air-intake of the leftmost fighter in the diamond formation. The  
fighter exploded in a massive fireball, debris bouncing off the  
remaining aircraft. The second SAAM missed the first aircraft before  
the Phantom's master radar locked it onto the rearmost F-16. The  
missile detonated against the port wing, severing it from the main  
fuselage. The fuel stored within the wing ignited, turning the entire  
port side into a fireball. The pilot pulled the ejection lever, but  
his fate was sealed. The flames were sucked into the cockpit as the  
canopy blew, the flames mercilessly burning his exposed flesh as the  
ejection seat carried him from his stricken bird. The fighter exploded  
seconds later as the fire spread to the bomb payload; the pilot would  
take longer to die. He would end his life clinging to the side of a  
mountain, succumbing to his horrific burns a mere half hour before his  
would be rescuers arrived.  
Eva whooped as Lupuis reported her kills, one plane off ace… she was  
leading the squadron's kill tally on this mission. It was still,  
however, a testament to Lupuis's skill as an electronic warfare  
officer that each of the 4 missiles achieved a kill. As Eva whooped Viper  
11 entered gun range of the two remaining jets. The two remaining  
F-16's had broken formation after the abrupt loss of their comrades;  
their jamming was supposed to be proof to the older technology used on  
the ISAF SAAM missiles. Both were wary of the Phantom at standoff  
range, they had to close with the other ISAF fighter to ensure that  
the SAAM's would not be able to achieve a clean lock-on.  
"Eva! Stay back from the fight!" Lupuis instructed as he fiddled with  
the radar controls  
"what?! He'll get murdered by two of them!"  
"no, those F16s don't know we bingo on the SAAM's, just keep me  
pointed at the fight and one of them will have to break off"  
Meanwhile, Walker was pulling a tight 3G turn behind one of the F16s,  
trying to get a clear missile lock-on.  
"Come on you bastard stay still!" Shouted Walker as his burst of 20mm  
passed by the jinxing fighter. Even equipped for bombing the 1980s era  
fighter was far superior to the 60s vintage F-5.  
"Viper 11, ignore the missile warning! Trust me on this!" he heard  
Lupuis's say over the radio  
His missile warning system went berserk, looking to the phantom he saw  
the clear contrail of an air to air missile. Ignoring it, he took  
advantage of the momentary distraction, the F16 pilot had paused in  
his evasion as he launched missile countermeasures. This moment was all  
walker needed. His 20mm high explosive shells chewed into the central  
fuselage of the F-16, shredding the turbofan engine the power to the  
cockpit. Feeling the controls deaden in his hands, the pilot pulled  
his ejection lever.  
"Scratch one F-16!" shouted Walker as he pulled a tight turn to fall  
in behind the second F16.  
"Walker, back off, he's bugging out" Lupuis called over the radio  
watching the radar blip of the F-16 turn west.  
"But he's getting away!"  
"no buts moron, you know the what Omega 1 said about retreating  
planes" Eva snapped before Lupuis could reply  
"yes ma'am, returning to CAP around the second target"

The rest of the squadron caught up with the pair of advance fighters  
as they circled the radomes.  
"they've stopped transmitting" reported Lupuis as they circled  
"Must be evacuating… good, means less dead" Commented Omega 1 as the  
stragglers joined the squadron "All right, scope is clear, Viper 11 and  
Delta 4 your fuel should be bingo after the intercept ,RTB, the rest  
of the dump your loads on the radomes"  
"roger that, pulling out, see you back on the carrier omega 1"  
The F-5 and Phantom turned for home while the rest of the squadron  
made its attack runs onto the Radar station.  
Rasing their altitude to 23,000 feet, Lupuis settled in for the 3  
hour flight back to the carrier, pulling out a small neck-pillow he  
propped himself up against the side of the cockpit and dozed off.  
Ten minutes later Walker broke the silence over the com  
"hey Eva! Since you saved Lupuis's ass last week and the kills you got  
today, are you not an ace now?"  
"What?" she responded surprise to his sudden remark.  
"Well, you got an A-10 last week, and 2 F-5's and 2 F-16s today, that's five?"  
"I guess so…so what does the first ace of the squadron entail?"  
"I don't know… lots of drinking and… a couple other benefits…"  
"keep thinking like that and your going to be my 6th kill you  
perverted bastard"  
Walker burst out laughing at that remark  
"how many times have you threatened me with death then? 6 times?"  
"Let's see…. Twice for trying to feel my ass, once for touching my  
bird, and twice again for you being you, so yes 6 times"  
"hmmm… you don't seem to mind Lupuis touching your bird…"  
"Shut up walker"  
Going red with embarrassment Eva turned around to see why Lupuis was so quiet  
"That bastard…. He's fallen asleep!"  
"Heh, I knew he looked tired this morning…."  
"time to wake him up"  
Eva Grinned as she inverted the Phantom, dropping Lupuis out of his  
slumber and making him dangle from his restraint harness  
"what was that for???" he said drunkenly, still half asleep  
"Your not allowed to sleep on the job!"  
"What?"  
"Just wake up and talk, I'm bored"  
"Hey but I keep you entertained!"  
"Yes but you're an asshole" she said sweetly before turning off the radio  
"why do you tease him so much?" Asked Lupuis as walker gave them the  
finger through his canopy  
"because its fun…and he is a bastard…"  
"just because he is acting like a sex obsessed college freshman doesn't  
mean he's a bad guy"  
"I never meant that, he wrote 'kick me' on your helmet this morning…"  
"What?!"  
Removing his flight helmet he looked at the "kick me" tag written in  
black marker onto the back.

The Phantom Landed on the Carrier with a heavy thud, catching the  
second arrestor wire throwing both Eva and Lupuis forward against their  
restraints. Overhead, the rest of the squadron was circling, they had  
caught up during the return trip after successfully bombing the  
radomes. As they pulled themselves out of the phantom, a gaggle of  
pilots and ground crew surrounded Eva, walker at their head. Hoisting  
her up as she let out a high pitched scream, they carried her towards  
the hanger lift to prepare for the celebration of her becoming the  
carriers first ace of the war. Lupuis Pulled himself out of the  
Co-pilots chair, watching the Eva look mortified as the group carrying  
her started singing ISAF anthem.  
Deciding to forgo the celebrations, Lupuis headed down towards his  
quarters, he was never the party guy and he had a couple hours to burn  
before the debrief.

An hour later he was asleep on his desk, his head spread over the post  
action report he was filling in. His cabin was tiny, just a bunk over  
a desk and a locker for clothes… but he had chosen this room for a  
reason. 1. It had an internet port, 2. It had a lock and 3. He had no  
roommate. It was situated next to the hanger deck, apparently it had  
been used as place for the crew chief's to take a break. Whatever  
reason it was built, he was perfectly positioned in the ship, between  
the mess and the hanger, he could be in either within a minute. His  
desk was mostly taken up by a large flat screen display. His pride and  
joy was his computer, ever since he was a child he had played on his  
computer fanatically. He had spent most of his high school years on the  
thing, the only reason he had got into the air force academy was that  
he constantly played combat flight Sims. Next to his keyboard were  
several graphics he was thinking of painting on his aircraft, among  
these so far was a pair of wolfs on a black background, a grim reaper  
and a blue and black ribbon crossing the world… the ribbon one had  
promise but something was missing…  
Behind him, the door to his tiny room opened slowly as Eva peeked in,  
her flight suit stained with the bootleg beer that had been spilled on  
it during the celebrations of her becoming an ace. As she looked  
inside, she saw him asleep. Smiling to herself, she crept up next to  
him, preparing to give him a nasty surprise. She paused for a moment,  
her gaze falling on the artwork on his desk, picking up the one with  
the ribbon, she looked at it for a second before rolling it up and  
stuffing it in her fatigues.  
Before she left, she couldn't help but take a look on his computer,  
she knew from what walker said he was a heavy sleeper and the beers  
she had drunk added to her boldness. Moving the mouse, the screen  
flickered into life displaying a password login. She thought for a  
second before typing in "Mobius" and being greeted with "password  
accepted".  
On the desktop was an open text file, his diary. She scrolled through  
the first couple pages before skipping to the latest entry. Her eyes  
widened at what she read, a smile spreading across her face even as  
she blushed. Shutting the computer down, she gently stroked his hair  
affectionately as she left to her room.

Read and Review!  
Pilot naming to the first person (yellow 13 has already got that right)


End file.
